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“But you fucked up,” she says.
His eyes dart down to her throat, and I can see the cogs turning. He’s playing out in his mind what would have happened if he’d just grabbed Anastasia tighter and snapped her neck instead of strangling her. My hands curl into fists and my teeth snap together as Anastasia stands up.
“So, who paid you?”
“I can’t,” he gasps wetly. A river of crimson drools past his bloodied lips.
“Who paid you?”
“I have a reputation?—”
“You think you’re walking out of here with anything like a reputation intact?” She scoffs sharply, using the hammer to lift his chin. “The only thing between you and survival is what I want. And I want to know who paid you.”
His refusal to answer turns into a twenty-minute session of Anastasia breaking his kneecaps, popping one of his balls—which was painful for both of us—and ripping out three teeth before he breaks. He crumples while weeping and slurs out his bank account details.
Stepping back, I type the details into my phone and log into his account where sure enough, the payment is there from yesterday.
“?????,” I read out.
“Sunray?” Anastasia translates. “What is that, a company?”
“No, it’s not a company account. It looks like a personal account.”
Anastasia walks up to me and peers over my shoulder, studying the details on the screen. “Wow,” she murmurs. “Dude, you order too much DoorDash.”
Our captive doesn’t reply.
“Can you find out who this account belongs to?” she asks, looking up at me.
I tap through to the details, but other than numbers, there’s nothing identifiable about the account. “Not through the app,” I reply. “But I can start digging.”
“Alright…” Anastasia sighs deeply. “Let’s end this.”
No sooner do the words leave her than a snap echoes through the room. Our captive lunges upward from his chair, wrenching his arms free from his bindings. Several things happen in the next few seconds.
He lunges at Anastasia in a weak, ruthless attempt to try and get to her. I turn and snatch my gun from the table, and when I turn back, Anastasia is already knocking the man to the ground and stabbing a scalpel repeatedly into his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain from the wounds, and his weak hands scramble against her chest and shoulders. From here, I glimpse the thumb he dislocated to help him escape.
Blood sprays over the floor and all over Anastasia, splashing over my shins as I lower my weapon. The man dies within seconds, gurgling out his last insults that sound more like water being dragged down the drain. Anastasia remains seated on him with the scalpel in her hand until he stops moving. Then she slowly climbs to her feet with a groan.
“He ruined my shoes,” she murmurs, turning to look at me.
Her entire form is drenched in blood, but her eyes stand out like bright lights in the dark. Then she smiles.
It’s a small smile of relief, perhaps born from finally having some kind of lead toward who is trying to kill her. What strikes me the most, however, is how beautiful she looks. Like life itself has suddenly been injected into her and there’s a new vibrancy in her.
Or I’m just seeing it for the first time.
Before, Anastasia was just the ice princess—my boss with no care for anything and the top suspect on Viktor’s list.
Now, she’s Anastasia with gorgeous eyes and a cute smile, and she makes my heart skip a beat.
Shit.
Am I falling for her? There’s no way feeling this strong is a crush. No way in hell.
Our eyes meet, and I search for something to say, but nothing comes. Anastasia steps away from the body but stumbles when her foot catches on his leg. My hand darts out to catch her, and a jolt of electricity snaps through my body the moment her hands touch mine.
Say something, you fool.